


Visitation Surprise

by thatforgottenbasilisk



Series: tumblr asks [1]
Category: A Date With Markiplier (Web Series), A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, no happy ending, this is just straight up angst no fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatforgottenbasilisk/pseuds/thatforgottenbasilisk
Summary: "yancy angst where y/n ‘forgets’ about him (missing visitation!) but in reality dark is simply holding them away from yancy until he does ‘insert task here’ for him :))" - tumblr ask by coffee-bean-boi
Series: tumblr asks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557526
Kudos: 25





	Visitation Surprise

November 17, the third Sunday of November. It was a bit chilly, as one might expect, but nothing too cold. Today promised nice, cool, dry weather, with not a cloud in the sky.

For most, today was insignificant, just another Sunday before the start of a new work week. But for those in Happy Trails Penitentiary, today was special.

The third Sunday of every month was visitation for the prisoners of said establishment. One prisoner in particular was looking forward to it; previously, he’d never had any visitors, but today promised a companion. Today, Yancy would see his prison friend that he’d helped free.

Today promised a lot of things. Unfortunately, it didn’t exactly deliver.

Later that night, after Yancy had long given up waiting for Y/N, as he laid upon his bed listening to the pounding storm beating on his cell, he wondered if they even remembered him. They probably never intended to visit. They probably just wanted him to help them escape so they could leave him far behind.

Yancy didn’t sleep well that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t sleep well the night of December 15th, either. That was the second visitation that Y/N had missed. Yancy had allowed himself a bit of hope, but it clearly was in vain. Y/N had no intention of seeing him again, that was for certain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the morning of January 19, the third Sunday of January, Yancy woke up in a place that he was certain that he had not fallen asleep.

He was in a bed far more comfortable than any kind that the prison could afford, in a lavish-looking guest room. Merely from the size of the room, Yancy could tell that the rest of the building, whatever building it was, was huge. There was art on the panels of the ceiling, along with intricate gold carvings.

Yancy stood and made to walk out the door when he found out that it was locked. He jiggled the knob a bit, and then decided to fashion himself a lockpick.

After at least an hour of trying, Yancy found that the lock could not be picked.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

The voice was coming from all sides of him. It was warped somehow, but not overtly; it was just enough to be unsettling.

Yancy turned around. Before him stood a man. His attire, a white suit, was the least of Yancy’s concerns; what really interested (and “interested” would be the understatement of the century here) him was the fact that the man was _wearing his face_.

Well, not exactly. Yancy had tattoos, and the man did not. But that was the only visible difference between the two. At least at first glance.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here. Why _I_ have brought you here.”

Yancy nodded silently. He didn’t trust himself to speak properly to his _clone_.

“Well, you see, you have something that I want. And in exchange, I will give you something that you want.”

And then something extremely unsettling occurred. The room, no, the world, no, the _Universe_ , was bending and creaking about Yancy. About the man.

It warped to allow them both into a different part of the house, presumably. They were on a balcony of sorts, looking down on the floor beneath them.

On the floor was shattered glass and ancient bloodstains. In the middle of this mess sat a chair, which contained Y/N, bound and gagged and looking miserable. They were still in their prison uniform.

“This is what I offer you. I get what I want from you, and you get your precious Y/N, safe and sound.”

Yancy turned towards the man, who he was now convinced was not a man but something far more powerful, and was about to ask a few questions, the answers to which were absolutely essential to Yancy’s decision-making process, when he was cut off.

“Oh, and by the way, they didn’t forget about you. They’ve just been a bit, let’s say, _preoccupied._ "

The clone-demon-thing smirked, an awful smirk of someone who knows that their actions are generally morally reprehensible but doesn’t care enough to feel guilty.

Y/N began to cry and vigorously shake their head, wordlessly but not noiselessly begging Yancy not to take the deal. They probably knew more about what the thing wanted than he did, but he couldn’t just leave his friends like that.

Upon closer inspection, as Yancy was going to offer his hand to shake, he noticed that the demon clone appeared sickly. There was power in its eyes and stance, but its skin was sallow and it had some kind of weariness about it that Yancy could not identify. The thing looked to be deteriorating, almost, as though there was some essential component that it was missing.

Yancy shook its hand anyways. Then everything turned black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have to say, Yancy, you take wonderful care of yourself. The tattoos aren’t preferable, but overall, this is quite a nice specimen.”

Yancy and Y/N were on the cold, hard ground of some dark space. It was completely black all around, and the cold was pressing and choking both of them.

Yancy sat up to see himself, tattoos and all, moving his arms and legs in a way that suggested that he was getting used to them.

Yancy felt pressure build in his lungs and began to cough, powerfully and violently, into the white sleeve of the suit jacket that he was wearing.

Tears had built in his eyes, and he wiped at them to discover eyeliner.

The thing now inhabiting Yancy’s body muttered to itself, “Yes, this might last another two years. Maybe three, given I didn’t have to revive it.” 

Then it finally seemed to notice Yancy.

“Oh, that body won’t last very long. Bodies need their souls, you see, and that one hasn’t seen theirs in a long while. You’ll have to change it out pretty soon. I’d advise borrowing from comatose patients in hospitals; wouldn’t you agree, Y/N?”

Y/N visibly paled. They began to fiddle with the hem of their shirt nervously. They remained silent.

The thing scoffed. To Y/N, it said,

“You act so high and mighty, but really you’re no better than I am. We’re like snakes, you and I. Shedding our skins not because we want to, but because it is necessary. My enemy is a viper, killing and shedding skins because it pleases him. To that end, my offer of alliance still stands.”

It held out Yancy’s hand. Y/N refused to take it.

“Fine then. You and your little _jailbird_ , go have your fun. Perhaps a body snatcher Bonnie and Clyde routine? Or are you finally going to stop robbing hospitals?”

Y/N looked down towards whatever passed for ground in this void. They softly began to cry again.


End file.
